Party Time
by Sammie Spitz
Summary: (16) A party prank gone bad. Just read and find out.


Party Night  
  
By Sammie Spitz  
  
Joanna sat on her bed in her dorm, reading a mystery book she'd just gotten. Her Aunt Mary was a mystery addict and was always sending her some so she'd have an alternetive to spending all her free time in the firing range or the combat simulator.   
  
'It's not healthy for a girl your age,' She'd say in every letter that came with the books, 'to spend your entire time doing something violent and not doing anything relating to the arts.'  
  
At first, Joanna thought mystery books were the biggest waste of damn time she'd ever heard of. She'd always vowed that she would get wrapped up in a stupid novel. she always thought to herself, 'Bloody hell, Christine does that all the time! Look what happened to her! She's a strict as they come!'  
  
However, to humor her aunt and just to be nice, she read the books. And she was soon scared by the fact that she was enjoying them! She was already on the last few pages of a mystery thriller called 'Houdini's Disappearing Act', and she'd only gotten it a few weeks ago!   
  
There was suddenly a knock on the door. She was so wrapped up in the novel, she was shocked right out of her bed. She let out a small scream and fell out of her bed. The voice behind the door called, "Jo! What happened in there?"  
  
Joanna growled silently. He always found just the wrong moment to barge in. Well, at least he knocked, she couldn't be mad over that. She sighed and answered, "Come in, Jon. Door's open."  
  
Jonathon walked in, looking at Joanna, laying on the floor and staring back at him. He then noticed the book laying on the floor. Joanna picked it back up and tried to find the page she was on.  
  
"Is that one any good?" Jonathon asked.  
  
"Actually, it is." She answered, "Nice change from the usual murder mysteries. Do you know about those Westminster Kennel Club Dog Shows over in New York."  
  
"Sure."  
  
"Well, in this one, a famous, champion Chow Chow gets stolen."  
  
"Oh. I was never a fan of mysteries. I always prefered Steven King."  
  
Joanna got halfway through the last page as she said, "You honestly like to read books like that?"  
  
"Sure. There good for scaring coworkers late at night. Remember when I read a passage from 'Cugo' last Halloween?"  
  
Joanna finished her book and thought back to that Halloween. Everyone came with ghost stories and horror tales. She rememebered telling that story about the Tower of London. Jonathon brought his 'Cugo' book with him and read a passage that gave her nightmares for a few nights afterwards.  
  
"Well, anyway, I came to tell you something." He said, deciding to change the subject, "There's gonna be a party in the gym tommorow, around eight. Think you can make it?"  
  
"I think so. I don't have to-"  
  
"No, you don't have to wear a dress."  
  
  
  
"I can't beleive I agreed to this. It's as boring as hell." Joanna muttered to herself. She never was a social person, so a party wasn't the ideal place for her. Just an excuse to drink punch and eat party snacks.   
  
"Speaking of punch, I'm thirsty." She realized. She quietly went over to the punch bowl and poured herself a cup. She happened to notice Elvis next to her, closely observing a pretzel.   
  
"Elvis, it's food. Try it." She told him. Elvis looked at it, some more, still unsure, but took her advice.   
  
"Salty enough." He said. Joanna wasn't quite paying attention. Something else was on her mind...  
  
"Damn it, it's hot in her!" She said to herself. She couldn't beleive she felt like she was about to break into a sweat, but she was only in her leather outfit. She wasted no time looking for the thermostat and turning it down, then opening up a nearby window. Upon getting the window open, she went back and got another cup of punch.   
  
"No wonder I'm so thirsty." She muttered, "This bloody place is like a hot house! Would it kill them to turn down the damn thermostat?!"  
  
Meanwhile, someone wondered the exact opposite of Joanna. He wondered why someone would want to spend an evening in a giant equivilent of a freezer. He turned the thermostat up and then closed the window, muttering about how crazy the person must be to have the window wide open like that and freeze everyone to death.   
  
Joanna noticed the difference and, a few minutes later, went through he routine of turning the thermostat down and opening the window. This pattern continued on about s3even of nine times until both of them finally gave up and decided to live with whatever condition they were given.  
  
Elvis had managed, with some effort, to get a cup of punch. Since he seemed to like it, he tried to get a second one. However, he wasn't as lucky as he was before. He got the stool he used to reach the bowl before, but he wasn't as steady as he was the first time. He lost his balance, grabbed the bowl and fell on the floor, accidently spilling it all over himself and all over the floor. This caught the attention of everyone nearby, including Jonathon.   
  
"Elvis, you okay?" He asked.  
  
Elvis lay on the floor, the empty punch bowl laying on his chest, upside down. He sat up and looked around, then sighed, "Sorry about the mess."  
  
"Don't worry about it, the thing wasn't that full. I'll just go get the mop."  
  
  
  
"Hey, Jon." Foster said, tapping Jonathon on the shoulder after he sat down next to him.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Get a load of this." He pointed to Christine, the weapons lab technician. She was joking around with a few other techs about how her husband got drunk on their honeymoon and made an idiot out of himself.  
  
"So next," she giggles, "He comes staggering into the bedroom, talking about how tired he was. He then goes and crwls in between the matresses! I was shaking him for a good five minutes before he got the idea and got in bed the right way. Boy, was he hung over in the morning."  
  
Jonathon looked at Foster and asked, "Yeah, and your point?"  
  
"Think about it, mate. Christine telling jokes?!" Suddenly, before he could elaborate it any further, he suddenly started grabbing his stomach and groaning. Jonathon was about to ask him if he was alright, but he suddenly shot up out of his seat and ran for the mens' room, exclaiming that he was going to be sick.  
  
"Uh-oh." Jonathon muttered and went into the mens' room to check on him.  
  
  
  
"Foster?" Jonathon asked. He slowly walked into the bathroom. He heard the sound of someone throwing up so hard, it sounded like his stomache would come out at any moment. He slowly pushed open the door to the stall the noise was coming from. Foster was half-slumped over the toilet, groaning in his hybrid Australian and British accent.  
  
"Foster?" He asked again. Foster stumbled to his feet and leaned against the wall as he turned to face him. "Are you alright, buddy? You look like shit."  
  
"I feel like shit." Foster groaned. He was a little pale and obviously sick to his stomach. He tried to walk out of the stall, but ended up stumbling over in his sickened state and leaned on Jonathon, "I feel like I'm gonna die right here."  
  
"I haven't seen you this sick since you accidently drank Grimshaw's beer at the New Year's Eve party some years back." Jonathon told him, "You weren't drinking, were you?" Foster was terribly allergic to alchohol. If he even had so much as half a drink, his body would make sure he regreated it.  
  
"Me?! Drinking?!" Foster said, surprised by the question, "Bloody hell no! You know I don't drink on purpose! All I had to drink was punch! That's all!"  
  
"Punch?"  
  
"Yeah, I was eating pretzels. I got thirsty and drank a cup of punch. The next thing I know, I'm like this!"  
  
"The punch did taste a little weird." Suddenly, a thought hit Jonathon, "You don't think..."  
  
Foster looked at him, then suddenly clutched his stomach and rushed into the stall again.  
  
"Son of a bitch!" Jon screamed and ran out to see if the punch really was spiked.  
  
  
  
Jonathon walked among the other guests looking for any clue that some of them might be drunk. Thinking back, Christine's behavior and Foster getting sick was some good proof. As he was, he happened to notice Elvis. He was sitting in a chair, covering his mouth as he regularly jerked while making strange squeaks. This was a Maian's form of the hiccups. Jonathon walked over to him. He looked up at him and said, "Hello."  
  
"Hi, Elvis." He replied, "What's wrong?"  
  
He managed to fight back the hiccups and took a few breaths before answering, "I don't know. After drinking my punch I suddenly couldn't stand up and-" He was cut off when his hiccups suddenly returned. He moaned, "Oh, not these damn hiccups again!"  
  
"You couldn't stand up?"  
  
"Yes, I tried to stay on my feet, but I had to sit down. Let me see if I can stand up now." Elvis slowly tried to get up, but suddenly fell over into the chair.  
  
"Looks like it's not quite out of your system yet." Jonathon told him.  
  
"What's not out of my system? I thought this was harmless."  
  
"I think someone spiked the punch."  
  
"And that means?"  
  
"Someone thought it would be a funny idea to put alchohol in the punch just to see how many people get drunk off their asses."  
  
"Oh."  
  
Jonathon then took notice of something. Joanna was nowhere to be found. This started to worry him, especially since he thought he saw her drinking a lot of the punch. He asked, "Um, Elvis, do you have any idea where Jo might be?"  
  
"I think I saw her go into the coat room about five minutes ago.  
  
"Oh shit. Listen, I'd better go check on her." He went into the coat room, which was really a locker room on the other side of the gym. He walked in and suddenly heard a giggle, with a british accent it seems.  
  
Joanna was sitting in a chair, somewhat hidden in the room. She was giggling a little bit, humming to herself what Jon thought might be a British drinking tune. This was a scaring thing for Jonathon to look at. He was used to Joanna being strick and high-strung. Giggling was usally very out of character for her.  
  
'I'm starting to think she's drunk.' He thought to himself.  
  
"Jo?" He asked. Joanna looked over at him, giggling a little more and smiling at him.  
  
"Jonny-Boy!" She shouted, "Where've you been all night?"  
  
'She called me Jonny-Boy and she's happy to see me?' Jon thought, 'Now I KNOW she's drunk.'  
  
"Uhhh...Hi, Jo." He said.  
  
"Don't be shy, sit down." she said. Jonathon was a little nervous, but sat down beside her, realising she was harmless.  
  
Joanna giggled a little more and said, "My, you're a strong one. You must spend half your life lifting weights."  
  
"Yeah, that and heavy guns. So do you, remember?"  
  
"Oh, yes...silly me."  
  
'OK, how did Uncle Luke say to tell if someone's drunk?' Jon thought to himself. Being from a small, rural area, Jon was close to many of his reletives, one of which was an uncle in the local police force, 'Well, one of them was checking the pupils.'  
  
"OK, just hold still okay, Joanna, I need to check your eyes for a minute." He told her. He, as gentley as he could, opened her eye lids. It was clear that Joanna wasn't herself tonight. Usually, she'd fight and groan about how she can take care of herself well enough without help. But, instead, she actually seemed to be enjoying it.  
  
"Oh, Jon, your such a flirt!" She giggled, hitting him playfully in the chest.  
  
"Yeah, just hold still." He examined her eyes a bit and found that they were dialated. He let her sit on her own for a bit as he tried to think of another test.  
  
'Well, there's the line test, of course.' He thought. He carefully stood her up and looked for something that could work as a line. He found a line of tiles on the floor.  
  
"Alright, Jo, see that line?" He asked, pointing to it.  
  
Joanna seemed to search a little in the direction Jonathon pointed, then replied, "Yep."  
  
"I need you to try and walk on it. Just walk in a straight line, alright?"  
  
"If you say so." She slurred, then tried to walk as she told him, "I don't see the point in this, thought."  
  
As she continued to argue how useless this was, she was clearly vearing off course. Then, she suddenly tripped on her own feet and stumbled over, but Jonathon caught her.  
  
"Jo, you alright?" He asked. Joanna just started giggling and wraped her arms around him.  
  
"Aren't you the sly one." He giggled to him. Jonathon was starting to get a little unsteady. He was used to Joanna swearing and yelling at him and telling him how he has no idea what he's doing. But, here she was, almost flirting with him. It was perfectly clear what was wrong with her.  
  
"Joanna?" He said.  
  
"Yes?" She looked up at him.  
  
He fought to find a way to put it. Finally, he took a deep breath and just told her. He said, "Jo, your drunk of your ass, do you realise that?"  
  
"Thank you!" She told him, enthusiasticly. Jonathon looked at her sympatheticly.   
  
'She doesn't have any idea..' He thought, 'Boy, she'll have a pretty good idea of what happened when she wakes up in the morning...speaking of which..'  
  
"Listen, Jo, it's getting late. Why don't I get you to your dorm so you can get some sleep?" He told her.  
  
"You can't take an all-nighter, eh?" She said, hitting him in the back.  
  
"Yeah. Besides, you look a little..well...out of it. I think you should get to bed."  
  
He took her hand and lead her back to the dorm buildings. Eventually, she needed to lean against Jonathon just to keep on her feet. He was getting a little more worried about this. Since she was drunk, she was also unpredictable. She could do anything at any given second. Though, she seemed releltivly harmless. Something else that worried him was how sick she was going to be once this stuff started to work it's way out of her system.  
  
Finally, he managed to get her to her dorm. He decided to spend the night, just to keep an eye on her and make sure she was alright. But, first came the challenge of getting her to bed.  
  
Jonathon, having carried her to her dorm once they got inside the building since her balance was getting worse by the minute, gentley put her in bed. She sat there, looking at him.  
  
"Jo, listen, you might want to get to sleep. It's..." He checked his watch and was shocked to find how late it was, "It's almost midnight. You should really get some sleep."  
  
"She looked like she was going to start arguing with him about it, but gave a sigh and said, "Alright, Jon, if your so worried about it." She settled herself down into bed. Noticing Jon was about to fall asleep in the chair next to her bed, she nudged his hand and said, "I guess it's safe to say you value virtues. That a nice quality I guess."  
  
Jon smiled to her. She quietly whispered good night, then went to sleep. Jonathon couldn't help but be charmed by how Joanna acted that night. She was a really sweetheart when she was drunk. But, he'd be glad to have the old Joanna back. He never thought he'd miss having her swear and curse at him. He quietly relaxed in the chair and dozed off.  
  
  
  
Jonathon woke up to an aggonized groan next to him. He looked over at Joanna. He was curled up on her side, apparently hunched up and shaking a bit. He gentley shook her shoulder. She turned to him with a groan. She looked worse than Foster did the night before. She was pale and had a sickly expression on her face.  
  
'I knew it.' Jonathon thought, sadly, 'I knew she'd end up hung over.'  
  
"Oh my God..." Joanna groaned, shifting a bit under the covers. Jonathon rubbed her back a little to try and calm her down.  
  
"Take it easy, Jo." He told her. She just let out another painful groan and tried desperatly to get comfortable. This proved to be a losing fight. Jonathon got an empty waste paper basket he'd gotten the night before and kept it nearby. He had a feeling that it was going to be coming back to haunt her.  
  
Sure enough, it did. She suddenly started sitting up and groaning even worse than she had before. Jonathon got the pail ready for her.  
  
  
  
Foster quietly knocked on the door. He heard a few groans and then Jonathon tell him to come in. He walked in and saw him sitting next to Joanna's bed as she layed in it. He thought she might be asleep until she started groaning in pain.  
  
"I take it she still hasn't gotten over it." Foster said.  
  
Jonathon rubbed her back a little and said, "She'll be alright, but she's got to wait it out."  
  
"Well, I came to ask if you were coming downstairs for breakfast."  
  
"I have to stay up here and make sure she's alright."  
  
"Alright. You want me to get you anything?"  
  
"No, I'm alright." With that for a response, Foster shrugged and left.   
  
  
  
It was about one in the afternoon. Jonathon was glad that Joanna had been able to get some sleep for an hour or two. He gentley shook her so he could check on her and see if she had gotten any better.  
  
Anything would be better than the condition she was in that morning. She must have emptied out her stomach completely. She'd thrown up two or three times. She also spent half of her recovery groaning in misery.   
  
Joanna made a slight noise, then looked up at him. She gave a slight smile and said, "Well, good morning, stranger."  
  
"You're smiling, Jo." He said, smiling himself, "That's the first time I've seen you smile all day."  
  
Joanna giggled a bit. Jon then commented, "I guess you're feeling better."  
  
"Much better." She said, "I don't know how I got that sick. I wasn't drinking or anything."  
  
"Actually, you were. Someone spiked the punch."  
  
Joanna groaned, not in pain but in frustration, and fell back into bed, muttering, "I can't beleive I got that drunk from spiked punch."  
  
"Well, your feeling better, right?" He told her. She smiled at him, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go get some quick breakfast and be right back up here."  
  
As he went to the door she said, "By the way...thank you...for staying with me the whole time."  
  
Jonathon turned around and smiled to her before leaving. Once she heard the door close, she settled herself down into bed and went to sleep.  
  
The End 


End file.
